


The Sting of the Past

by HermesSerpent



Category: Freakazoid (Cartoon)
Genre: I dont think this is too graphic?, One Shot, Threats, Weirdness, mention of freakazoid, snapshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermesSerpent/pseuds/HermesSerpent
Summary: Hey, so this is a quick one-shot based around an OC called Geisterfahrer. I have a description of him on my tumblr, hermesserpent-stuff, but the quickest explanation is that he is the clone that was featured in the episode where Freakazoid is locked in a cage by Gutierrez and a clone runs around the city. Essentially he comes to life after a lightning strike hits the disposed clone’s body, becoming Geisterfahrer with no memory of his past. His key characteristic is that he has a constant hollow, empty feeling that he is desperately trying to fill through the excitement of heists or the goods he steals. This is a meeting between him and Gutierrez after he has been running around for a while and has had a few run-ins with Freakazoid and one sort of run-in with Dexter. I was asked to post this story, which has been sitting around in my mind and computer for years, after someone saw my OC, which I will be very honest, made me so happy and pleased. I hope this lives up to my own hype! Lol.
Kudos: 2





	The Sting of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> I might make an actual story at some point with this oc. He is a comfort character for me, to give a voice to my own frustration and hollowness. Hope people enjoy this snapshot of what could be!   
> The song is from Sabbaton, called Shiroyama.

Gutierrez sits in front of his organ, pondering what song best expressed how he currently feels. Perhaps a nice slow ballad to show his unending sorrow at his newfound ugliness. Or perhaps a joyful tune at the wreckage of the city at the hands of something he suspected to be his own creation. He presses a key experimentally, seeing how it makes him feel.

“No, no, no. Too... high.”

He presses a lower note. Ah. Better. His musical process is interrupted by a throat clearing. Gutierrez turns, expecting to see his assistant, but is instead faced with a version of his greatest foe. But something is off. The blue man is wearing a red tailcoat with a yellow button-down and black tie. The upper-scale dress sense clearly indicates that this is not his heartily hated enemy. 

“Hi-yah.”

The imitation grins, tilting his head. Bouncing up and down, the blue creature radiates energy from the tips of his spiked hair down to his clean black and white dress shoes. 

“Ah… I was expecting you.”

Gutierrez says, lying through his teeth to hold an air of mystery.

“No you weren't, you old fart!”

“I am not an old fart!!!”

The imposter raises his eyebrows at the man's outburst, which immediately had lost Gutierrez his chances at being mysterious. The old fart grumbles, slouching a little before regaining his perfect posture. 

“I was wondering when you would visit me, imposter. After seeing you on the news… I simply did not know it would be now.”

The blue-skinned man narrows his eyes slightly, before relaxing back into a broad smile. 

“Yeah. Well, news on the street is you have the most knowledge on our lovely local hero.”

Gutierrez tilts his head. Then he steeples his hands, interest clearly written on his face. 

“Why, I certainly consider myself to be the foremost expert. But what interest doe this hold for you? Other being a failed attempt at immitation? Tell me what is your name, mimic? ”

The imposter tilts his head, a flash of irritation slipping across his eyes. 

“The names Geisterfahrer. And yeah lets just go with the idea Im a carbon copy of him and thats why Im interested.

“I’m not old!”

“Uh-huh.”

Gutierrez grits his teeth, wanting to smack the disconcerting grin from his failed creation’s face. Geisterfahrer leans back against the wall, a smirk dancing across his lips. He patiently waits for the hooded man to respond.

“A curious name. German is it? Ghost driver. German’s such an ugly common language is it not?” 

Geisterfahrer scrunches his nose at the insult but seems to let it roll over him. 

“Yep. Means a driver who travels on the wrong side of the road. Fits how I feel about my life. I don’t want to drive in the lane built for me when I woke up looking like some do-gooder. But, this conversation has gone off the tracks a bit. Back to our town’s hero. I want to know what you know.”

Geisterfahrer says this last bit calmly, looking at a gloved hand that he is flexing in front of himself. The tone is one that a person might adopt if they were inquiring about the weather. Gutierrez laughs haughtily, full of disbelief at the sheer audacity.

“And why would I tell you, you lackluster imposter?”

Gutierrez slams a hand down over a button, sending a cage crashing down from the ceiling. The bars hum lightly. Geisterfahrer raises his eyebrows, a small amount of delight shining through his perpetually smug expression. Curiosity carves its way across his tight smile as he runs a finger along the bars. Gutierrez approaches the cage, looking quite proud of himself. 

“I have captured you using the true physical weakness of the hero! As his carbon copy, you shall feel your strength sapped away by these negatively charged ion bars. I think that his emotional weakness a shared trait.”

“So that’s the secret to cut off his power?”

An air of thoughtfulness swirls around the mimic as he runs his hand through his gravity-defying hair. 

“But of course! If it was not you would be able to escape using the superpowers gifted by the internet. I wonder what kind of human host the flaw has empowered this time!”

The imposter nods, touching the bars again, seeming to be slightly fascinated with the second piece of information spilled by Gutierrez. 

“Thanks, old fart. You've been far more helpful than expected. I'm going to be on my way.”

Gutierrez starts making insulted noises as Geisterfahrer slips a hand into his pockets unnoticed. The older man spits out his thoughts through the insulted look that falls upon his face that is quickly being wiped away by a devil’s smile.

“How could you be on your way? I have you in a cage! Im going to find out how you tick and who your host is! Then I shall create my ultimate clone of Freakazoid!”

Geisterfahrer pauses.

“You...You make clones?”

Its the first hesitation in his voice since the encounter had begun.Gutierrez is too swept up in imaginings of future glory to take note.

“Yes. I have made a clone of Freakazoid once before. It failed to fool people so I threw it out. Its parts are likely still a garbage heap somewhere. However, now I have a chance to overcome past failures!!”

Geisterfahrer scowls at the words, yanking a device from his pocket. He attaches it to the bars of the cage and after sending a small amount of his own energy into it, flips it on. Eclectic bolts dance across the metal, changing the charge of the cage. He clenches his fist and then punches the bars. Gutierrez steps bakc, shock staining his body movements.

“You know, I was going to just get some info and leave.  _ Maybe  _ rough you up for the fun of it or if you were being particularly difficult. But now, I think I should just kill you.”

His face is blank, devoid of the emoting smirk or anything else that had once been there. It is cold and stony, lacking any hint of human sympathy. 

“What! How is this possible?”

“Clearly, you failed to pay close enough attention to the news when I started popping in. Old age must be bogging you down old man. You’re old news as the biggest enemy of Freakazoid. You failed to shore up your claim to that spot. ~It is the nature of time that the old ways must give in!~”

Gutierrez stumbles back further as Geisterfahrer marches forwards singing, electricity dancing across his body in ill-concealed rage. The ex-CEO is unsure where this hatred is coming from. His mind stumbles backward through the conversation. Could this now singing lunatic really be?? His thoughts are interrupted by Geisterfahrer rushing forwards and pinning him to the wall. His windpipe is being harshly smashed by the other’s arm. Desperation fills him at the sight of the empty red eyes that pierce into his soul.

“Wait!!! I can tell you the secret identity of Freakazoid’s host! I can tell you the secrets of your creation if you are the clone I think you are! Don’t want to know these things?!”

Geisterfahrer shakes his head, a vile grin carving its way across his face but it does not reach empty heartless eyes. 

“Nope. I think I can figure things out for myself. I’m fairly sure it works in my interest to rid myself of the problem of having another villain who knows things about me and my enemy.”

He presses harder, electricity streaking across his arms and burning into Gutierrez. He sings out a few more lyrics to cover the gasps of the older man. A flicker of happiness, no, elation lights the clones piercing crimson eyes that had been so dead. Gutierrez struggles but can gain no traction. 

“~It is the nature of time that that the new ways comes in sin.~”

\----------------------------------------

Geisterfahrer walks out of the warehouse, sweeping his limp hair up int a bun. He then pulls out another device, looping the song over and singing softly to himself. 

“~When the new meets the old, it always ends the ancient ways.~”

He grins, cackling as he turns and chucks his device at the warehouse. Upon its contact with the wooden frame of the building, it sets the building aflame. 

“~And as history told, the old ways go out in a blaze!~”

Geisterfahrer continues on his way, not looking back to the burning building that holds his creator. No one could control him with secrets about his past that he did not even know. He should find out it the old man had any secrets squirreled away about him on a computer server. And maybe something about that blue nuisance. He keeps walking, the hollow feeling that lurks constantly in his chest starting to scratching at his thoughts once more. He should probably go get some electricity to eat, as he had not expected to get so emotional and release so much energy. He fiddles with the black glove on his left hand that covers a string of letters and numbers on his palm. At least now he knows where it came from. 


End file.
